The Cruel Lives We Lead
by Divine Dark Warrior
Summary: Many have been affected by Murtagh's treachery but Eragon can't let go of him. He searches desperately for a way to free him from his binds and the greyfolk may have a way. R&R Please!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If the Inheritance Trilogy were mine, it would have been finished and out by now instead of rotting away in storage. Sorry Guys.

Prologue

_Only hours ago I walked among these men, but then they were alive_, Eragon thought as he traversed through the mounds of bodies. The Battle of The Burning Plains had him questioning his entire heritage. Had Garrow known? Did anyone else in Palancar Valley know? He pondered this as he prepared to make his way to Farthen Dur. He would saddle Saphira within the hour, which he should have been doing instead of wandering through the past. He was to attend Hrothgar, the dwarven king's funeral. True, he was a fierce warrior with a warm heart, but to be smote down in an unmatched duel was truly a travesty to his heritage, even if he thought it was glorious to die in battle. He was a figure Eragon knew he could rely, trust and confide in. Never seeing his live, jubilant behavior brought salty tears to his eyes. Never more. Abruptly, Saphira's snake like neck struck quickly from a tent. His keen senses picking up on the wind change made him jump to the left just in time.

_What on earth was that for? _he asked astounded. Her large eyes narrowed as she leveled her head to look him in the eye.

_When we do battle with the lethrblaka you will have to dodge should we come to close order battle. Understood? _she asked as she moved from behind the encampment.

_I can't stop dwelling on the past. Everything I thought has been shattered like the turn of the tide. It seems like every time I place my foot down a proverbial rug shall be pulled from under it. How can life be so cruel? _he thought, walking towards Nasuada's tent. He moved the flap apart and walked through the sentries after they announced his arrival. Striding quickly into the large room, he went straight to his liege.

"How are you on this glorious hour m'lady?" he asked bending to one knee. Though the battle ended hours before she had already taken a bath, making her creamy caramel skin shine brilliantly. The elves would be jealous if they saw how clean she was, he thought.

"Good my young rider but I fear not for you. Now that your heritage to Murtagh and Morzan has surfaced I fear there will be a question of your loyalty. I, however, trust you but the men are superstitious and will think ill omen of such a birth right. I have terrible news as well. I will have to remain here for the Funeral but as an adoptive dwarf it is well out of my jurisdiction to stop you," she said with a smirk.

Sensing her trying to lighten the mood, Eragon smiled ,"I shall send along yours as well as the whole of Varden's grief. He was an honorable king even though I knew him on occasion. M'lady I need to ask a favor of you. I will need for my cousin to remain with the Varden as well as the whole of Palancar Valley. And I must go to Ellesmera for a sword. Will you do this for me?" She drew herself up with grace and swept lithely across the threshold to Eragon to cup his face. Warmth and love gleamed in her chocolate eyes as he looked into their dark depths.

"You have only to ask and I shall make it possible. Ajihad, my father, had complete and utter trust in you as do I. There is nothing in the whole of Alagaesia that I could keep from you. Go, but I fear you must be quick. And when you return I expect you to look the same," she added with a joke. She responded as well as everyone did after the Agaeti Blodrhen. His transformation from a human to an elf was miraculous. His old wounds clean as if someone had taken his skin and cleaned it.

"Then I shall leave immediately for Farthen Dur. Two fortnights should be more than necessary for the trip.

Good Evening Ma'am." He turned to leave but she motioned for him to stop. "What is it ma'am?" he asked not unkindly but the feeling of wind beneath his feet and the vast sky above him was as tempting as a siren call to a lonely sailor.

"An elf delegate shall attend the procession as well. You are the only thing that is keeping the Varden alive, it would be rash to let you traverse through these once safe lands without some assistance. Arya shall attend as well." she said calmly but with a stern voice that left arguing out of the question. He was not ready to face her alone after she rejected his wholehearted confession of love for her. On the other hand she was someone he could depend upon.

"Of Course. I shall go tell her this very moment." He left before she could assign him anymore duties. Reaching out with his consciousness he found her a dozen or so meters away but he also felt another consciousness that was twisted and wrong. The it hit him. Elva! I have to undo the curse as I promised.

Making his way towards her he knew that Angela lay in wait after he told her that he would cure her and he was going to stick to his word.

Arriving at the tent he called out, "Elva, Angela, please come out here. I have a certain someone to heal." Angela was out in a flash and behind her the shadows wreathed as the youth passed into the light to hug Eragon. He felt warm to the touch but on the inside he was as frozen as the winters he had to weather as a child. He hugged her back, still flabbergasted at the rate at which she grew. None of this would have happened had I not been irresponsible.

"I am ready," she murmured into the soft folds of his tunic. Her voice, though usually dark and dreary from having to endure the pains of other humans, was high with fright or happiness, he knew not. "Angela, I fear you will have to move back. This may be dangerous." Heeding his warning, she stepped a few paces back. Angela could be described as a true rebel and her place was nestled between the Varden and everything else that lay in wait.

Moving his right palm to her brow, Eragon could feel Elva's hesitation. Closing his eyes he delved into the part of his consciousness that held the ability to control his whims. Thinking back on the words he had said all those months ago, he recited them and then added, as the elves had taught him, a counter. _Moi._ Instantly he felt his strength weaken. The power drain from his limbs. His mind was shut out to everyone and everything save for Elva. The very ground he stood upon seemed to shake. Her consciousness swirled around him in images and colors that blurred together. The images of the beaten and broken, the hurt and the pained.

He could tell the drain was taking even more of his energy as his knees locked and he clenched his teeth to stop them from chattering. The it all stopped and the image of his brother Murtagh came into view and he felt the pain that he felt when he was dueling Eragon. The chill of being the whipping boy for Galbatorix and he winced when he felt the cool love that he felt for him even more. This made him absolutely sure that there was hope for him. Then everything went black and he knew that he was losing consciousness. Relief, much like the tide, swept in and stole him.

…

Author's Note: This was the first ff I have posted in a while. Tell me if you like it. I want at least 15 reviews. I have a few people to thank for helping me, but they know who they are. Until next time,

DivineSin


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Blushing Behind Tears

Before the gratuitous sleep could over take him something else entered his consciousness. A dark being, hooded by a crimson cloak. The figure had a lithe, fluid walk as it strode towards Eragon. He reached for Zar'roc, but felt nothingat his hip. Damn! The being let loose a guttural, throaty snarl before he reached into his cloak and pulled forth a shining blade. Though longer than his original blade, it gave off an immeasurable aura of power that broke though Eragon's feeble defenses. The hilt was a hue of azure matching Saphira's scales. The blade was equally magnificent, easily 29 inches long and truly vibrant. The it spoke: _Come for me as I lay in wait beneath the Menoa Tree… my name is _ _Drasaern, _the voice did not belong to the figure but the very blade!

This thought resonated through his mind as he fell unconscious.

Arya jumped and dropped her goblet of tea when the rise of energy touched her skin. Tendrils ran down her spine causing her utter fear. _An attack! _she thought. Her mind broke through the barrier around her consciousness, allowing her to see all around her at once. Every elfin child had to master this before even considering drawing a blade. Eragon's body lay strewn as if a carcass, next to the cursed child. Horror wracked her chest, a lump forming in her throat making it impossible to moan. _The Fool,_ she though, instantly realizing his actions. Throwing aside the lace-lined flap she went to his body. Even from a yard she could hear his heart beat. _He's alive, _she sighed inwardly. The stench of blood flooded her senses the moment she felt his tunic. She rolled him on to his stomach and froze in fear. His eyes were opened in fear, showing the whites. A trail of blood tracked through his left nostril and over his face. At her touch, the body convulsed and he uttered a single word before collapsing: _Drasaern_. Her blood ran cold. Her fingers numb. The awful legacy had finally come to light. She cradled his body, knowing the oncoming struggles would more than likely crush the young riders heart and soul. This could not end well.

…

The first thing Eragon felt was the warmth beside him. _Always think before you open your eyes or mouth, _he remembered Garrow saying. This could help you figure a way out of a situation. The scent was almost assuredly Arya, he thought, it was cruel for her to repeatedly turn him down and then try to comfort him. His thoughts would not remain on her as words echoed through his mind: _Drasaern. _He bolted upright, alarming the seemingly asleep Arya. He felt for his tunic. The crimson fabric felt right against his sweat drenched skin. He didn't even bother to look at the stunned elf. She wanted me to leave her be, then so be it.

_Would you like to tell me what happened?_

_I'll explain on the way. We should have left…how long have I been out, He asked._

After the visit from the mysterious Eragon felt a light presence in his mind. This one as powerful as Oromis. He felt light-headed and cheery while he walked towards the edge of the encampment. The dwarves were still there! How could they afford to out off Hrothgar's funeral? They were all sitting around glowing embers, the remains of a bonfire, a last attempt to keep warmth alive. They all glanced up, their eyes still holding the twinkle of tears, as he walked into their encampment. The dwarves' encampment was truly a sight to see. Before the battle he did not come because he was busy, now he regretted the choice entirely. The tents were beautiful lace and silk. Golden emblazons marked the classes from one another. The Pale moonlight was more than enough for Eragon to see his adoptive brother approach him from a tent no more than a dozen yards away. Orik's clothing was clean and he was well shaven.

_Preparing for the funeral, _thought Eragon. Orik wasted no time clasping his adoptive brother on the forearm before swelling with tears. "For a moment there I thought you were a goner! After Hrothgar I'm thinking everyone will disappear. He was the one constant thing in my life." he said dragging Eragon towards the fire. Walking around in his tunic, Eragon had had enough if the cold weather to last him a lifetime. "Orik," Eragon began, "Can we talk in private?"

The dwarf gathered his small form away from the fire and walked slowly into the flickering shadows. Eragon followed him away from the main swarm of tents and into a tent that was obviously his.

"Okay brother, lets talk." He patted his hairy hand on the mat next to him. He graciously took the comfortable seat, slowly moving down to rest on his knees. Eragon sighed, drawing strength to apologize for his actions.

"I know that we were supposed to leave for the funeral today and my actions have halted our expedition and I must apologize for that. Hrothgar, though I knew him for such a short time, was a glorious man and his memory should not be tarnished because a single, fool rider was asleep. Please forgive me brother." He sounded truly sincere and Orik's heart swelled with sympathy for him.

"Please brother, think nothing of it. No matter what anyone says now, Hrothgar's memory shall remain in our minds and hearts until the day we die." Orik's eyes grew with a fiery passion unrivaled. Deep within his heart, he knew he would die to honor his father. God help any man that fouled him.

"I would like to leave as soon as possible for the funeral," he stated diplomatically. _Drasaern… Drasaern… _The words resounded as if in Eragon's very cranium. They grew louder and louder. His temples were hurting and his vision was going! _That damned blade will kill me before I have the chance to find it, _he thought, clutching the side of his head. The blood filled his eyes and his thoughts swirled from the days events. Orik caught Eragon before he fell to the ground. He was still breathing when he left to find Arya.

Author's note.

Sorry that the deadline wasn't met but then again I still don't see 15 reviews. I am posting this in the hopes that people will not think it was a one-shot and read. I hope you like it, I am trying to build up the climax. Well, I am signing up for Debate 1, Journalism 1 Physical Fitness and Spansih 2 for High School. This guy I know said he regretted not signing up for it. Til next week,

Divine.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Endless Nightmares

Orik did not have to search long before he found the elf delegate. She was sitting beside Saphira seemingly in deep conversation when he strode up. Eragon was asleep and there was something about it that worried him. True, he has been exerting magic and strength as if it was nothing, but how much more of this could he take? Arya broke off in mid sentence as he approached and Saphira snaked her long head around to face him. Her scales shone even in the darkest of nights and this fascinated the dwarfs to no end. They were simply creatures who loved things of obvious treasure and value. Many believe they built the rose because they were vain, not true. The real reason for their audacious actions is because it is in their way. Elf's love music and anything beautiful, making them seemingly weak, dragons love their riders, allowing others to think that they crave attention like a school child. "How are you doing Orik?" asked Arya. They had not spoken since she offered her condolences to his adoptive father's passing.

"I thought you might like to know that Eragon has collapsed in my tent. He came to talk about the manner of travel and he just fell asleep." Orik said this as if it was the simplest matter in the world and it bothered Arya to no end.

"Then we should not awaken him. We have tarried here too long and must leave. I shall ride my steed along with the procession to the tomb and tether Eragon to Saphira's back." Though she would never admit it out loud but she was genuinely worried. It was so obvious that she and Saphira were just discussing what to do. They had come up with little. He would not accept any help from her after she turned him down so there were few people who could reach him and connect on his own level. Something happened during the healing with Elva and he was less inclined to tell anyone even his own dragon.

"...have you not sensed it Dragon?" asked Orik, breaking Arya from her thoughts. It was a good question: They were bound by a spell that should allow them that. How could she not know?

_Since the healing, _she thrummed; _he has kept his mind closed to me. _She projected her thoughts to the pair without their permission. Arya was accustomed to this but Orik jumped at the voice resounding in his thoughts.

This explained it. He has been awake for snatches of moments and then back to his comatose. Today was the first day in nearly 3 days that he was fully awake. He even missed the entire city of Carvahall moving to the Eastern Border of the encampment. The West was presently occupied by the urgals. There were hundreds remaining even after the fight. The group pondered how they could help their dearest friend.

Deep within the boundaries of his consciousness he knew he was asleep. This didn't bother him. Since the healing his energy was depleted. He remembers Elva at his side when he awoke. Her head was lying on his side and she was sobbing quietly. He reached out and ruffled her hair. She looked up and her eyes, not cruel and twisted in others misery, but at peace and contentedness. He remembered this before he fell asleep. This was nearly 2 days ago. Noone knew of his awakening but her and she had not told anyone. The same being entered his thoughts again. There was little Eragon could do. True enough he could block his thoughts but this form was strong enough to break through as Oromis had. _Why have you not gone to the blade oh great Rider? _Inquired the shadowed figure.

_How can I? The damn blade saps my strength and tires me before I can leave. At this rate I will never reach it. _

_The name of the blade is Drasaern and I must warn you as to it's past. Can you handle what is about to be spoken of? What I am about to say must not be repeated._

_To hear, you will have to swear it to me in the ancient language._

_I swear that I shall not reveal what is about to be said between us to a soul, _he swore in the ancient language.

_That blade has had only one previous owner. _The figure had an serpents tongue and he spoke as such. His voice making shivers run down his spine. They were covered in darkness, seemingly weightless as they floated through his dreams. _His name was Galbatorix. _

Eragon drew in a sharp breath. _How is that possible? _

_He now has Shruikan but his first friend was Saphira. Not the very same you know but her name was Saphira all the same. She was the one that was slaughtered by the Urgals in her sleep. Drasaern was presented to him a fortnight before the accident. He threw the blade away, half crazed as he struggled to the Order._

_So this blade..._

_Yes. Has the power of elves, dragons, riders, and even the grey folk. Before the elves were taught to forge the grey folk brought their magic and wisdom to Alagaesia._

_I can't believe this._ Eragon's head was spinning. The Cruel King, as Eragon had come to 'affectionately' call him, had once been a sane but this blade must be over a century old and belong to a dead dragon!

_Eragon, Rider of Saphira, leader of the New Riders, you have been bequeathed with the honor of wielding Drasaern, previous owner: The Reigning King Galbatorix. This is not a task you can turn away from and you will face peril. 'Neath the Menoa Tree is where the blade now lays in wait for you. _The shadows were over taking the figure and he was receding. Before he left he said, _Hurry. _Then he was gone, leaving Eragon to his dreams and recooperation.

The taste of copper in Murtagh's mouth was overwhelming. He heaved a shallow breath that hurt him all the way to his core. His crimson breast plate was splayed in his blood and gore. "Now stand boy!" roared the mighty king. He couldn't, not because it was against his word, but because his energy--as well as his muscles--was spent. He could only hope he would show some mercy.

"Do you hear me Boy? You are a peon in an otherwise ingenious plan," he roared in his mad ravings, spittle hanging from the small beard around his mouth. His fingers and legs trembled but he bowed on the floor to his lowest. This was a sign that he was superior. Murtagh did this in the most grudging way, hoping Galbatorix would not notice. He enjoyed running through his ancient memories of how The Forsworn had killed anyone should they blink at him in a manner against his choosing. _Look how they've ended up_, thought Murtagh angrily. He was awakened from his thoughts with a crack a crossed his back. He raised his head a fraction to see Galbatorix lean back and ready his aim for another blow.

_Don't you dare fight back_ came the voice of Thorn, deep within the realms of his consciousness.

_I won't. That would be foolish, _he thought. _Then he would hurt me even more and you. How could I live with myself?_

_You shant be living long if you fail again. He will be sure to bind you in more ties; you will forget which ones have already taken place. _Thorn said this grudgingly. He was never one for giving in when there was a battle to be fought, but the mad King kept them locked forever in a cage. Still, he could not bring himself to regret choosing Murtagh as his Rider. _Let me help you Murtagh,_ he said, wanting to ease his pain. He drew him from his body. Thorn was near Shruikan, behind the king's Black Chair, from which he ruled Uru Baen. Across the room Thorn observed Murtagh's body go limp. But he wasn't the only one. Shruikan brought his snake neck around and dug his fangs into Thorn's paw.

_Do not attempt to help him. He must learn what it means to fail when it comes to the king and his dreams. _The wound was deep and Thorn felt his energy drain quite quickly.

_Is it not my duty to protect my Rider with my life, _he hissed. From the other side of the room Galbatorix had stopped his lashings but Murtagh's body still shook and the look he threw Thorn made his heart clench. He felt the pain straight through his chest. _He can't last much longer._

Galbatorix eased his way away from Murtagh, passing the wounded Thorn and sat aside Shruikan in his twisted chair. _"_Clean yourself up you pitiful excuse for a man. The very thought that this great beast," he gestured at Thorn, "has chosen you as his friend for life makes my stomach swell to no end." He brought his goblet to his lips and drank heartily as if it was the last thing he needed before continuing. "Get out of my sight you disgrace!" He roared from his throne, gazing longingly at Shruikan.

Thorn lept forward and grabbed Murtagh between his teeth. He flew up the length of the cylinder room and through the window. _Do you need my strength? _He asked before they were far. The question was in vain as Murtagh had fallen into a trance to heal himself. He had done this numerous times since their changing. Galbatorix was a ruthless teacher that had little patience in the hopes of bringing the new order to light. He kept him awake for days at a time dueling him in mind and body. Spells he was forced to cast were beyond even the comprehension of even the elves. The wound from Shruikan bled profusely and he delved deep into his core. He felt the flame in his

belly grow and the wounded flesh stitch together. Something he had learned through the rigorous training he learned from Shruikan. His scales shone brilliantly in the coming night.

Author Note.

I am in desperate need for a beta so anyone interested should send me at least a 1 page story that they have written. This will be a test of competency. Good Luck!


	4. Chapter 4

The Dreary Path Home

Chapter 4

The march to Farthen Dur was, to say the least, uneventful. The soldiers were hardly helpful, choosing to talk of rumors. Word had gotten out that Nasuada and Murtagh was a pair._ How foolish, _Arya thought angrily. She was worried of attack. She and Eragon were the only spell-casters and he lay in his comatose, leaving the fate of the men in her hands. Saphira was so far up you could hardly tell she and Arya had been conversing for hours, as if they were old friends. The topics, however, kept leading back to one subject: Eragon. _How can he be so useless at a time like this, _Arya asked angrily. Her tensions were not eased by the fact that Roran, Eragon's cousin, chose to tag along instead of obeying his wishes. Every other word out of his never ending mouth was of his damsel Katrina. And if he was to be harmed Eragon would never forgive her.

_You were hardly helpful when we saved you from the prison, _Saphira recalled gleefully. _In fact, your case was much worse, as we had the Urgals on our tails the whole way. _

Arya stopped to glare at the young private who stumbled into her white steed. The look of pure horror filled him as he jumped away, not before muttering, "S-Sorry, Ma'am."

_And, _Saphira recollected happily, _it was hardly easy for Eragon to heal all your wounds. He was young, and still filled with the grief of Brom. He was so sad after he died. I was helpless to watch as he deteriorated. Murtagh was a hand that held him above the waters the he submerged himself in. When he became a Rider for Galbatorix, it killed him. Not forgetting that he is his very own brother. That day also set something in stone for him. His father is dead; as is his mother. He will never have a chance to meet them._

_But his father was Morzan, a killer known by all. His choices-_

_Would you not defend your father were he a crook? A lowly peasant? _

_Yes, _Arya sighed, knowing where this was leading.

_Eragon will never be able to defend his father, instead protect himself from his legacy. Imagine, his father died in the service of the king and now his brother is in the king's charge, this gives him nightmares every night. I see them, they are horrible, and can make bile rise into the mouth of anyone. Instead, he puts on a calm demeanor and does what he has to do._

There was no arguing with Saphira when she could prove a point such as that. Arya could the bond between Saphira and herself growing, day by day, they were beginning to understand each other. And Saphira was as mentally capable as anyone around her. The same could not be said of Eragon and her. He refused to even talk to her after he rushed out of the tent. Her actions were audacious but nothing compared to his fairth and confession during the celebration.

Her steed bucked and neighed again, this time in rapid procession. She reached out with her consciousness to calm him. She looked over her saddle to see Orik staring at her. His eyes were red and swelled from the endless tears that came, like a never ending waterfall. He and Eragon had become friends, but he was unable to talk to him, as was everyone else for that matter.

"I think he's tired. We all could go for a rest, wouldn't you say?" he asked. She knew it was a hint as they both understood the power of elven horses. They could gallop for leagues on end without tiring. Arya looked around at the soldiers and dwarves. Only a garrison of forty or so soldiers accompanied her. The whole of the dwarven army had chosen to come along, refusing to miss the burial of their dead King. The soldiers were dead on their feet and the same could be said of everyone else. She raised her closed fist, a signal to halt. She and her steed were at the lead; everyone saw the signal and stopped. They all looked as if they had a few more leagues in them but night was enveloping the desert scene and Arya desperately wanted to check on Eragon.

She scoped the dessert scenery, noting that the sun was descending faster than she thought. _They won't be able to set up camp if I wait much longer._

"We shall spend the evening here, prepare the tents. We will be leaving at first light. Make no mistake, you will be left behind should you not awaken," she ordered.

A soldier parted from the company and double times it to Arya. He saluted, requesting permission to speak. Arya allowed it.

"Ma'am, with all due with respect, may we have a bit of ale on this merry night? We have defeated he king, tis a time of merriment." He was an elderly man, scars covering every inch of his face. Sorrow, an emotion that Arya had not felt in a long time, swelled in her torso. She agreed to his decision, which was met with cheers by men, clasping each other on the shoulders or arms in a friendly manor. The dwarves remained sullen by the ale. Something that was unusual as they loved to release their inhibitions and dance merrily in the shadow of the rose.

_You have made a wise decision. The ale will boost their morale that has been lowered by the leagues they must travel. _Saphira's 'voice' was tired and strained as she spoke. Saphira closed her wings and plummeted hundreds of feet, Eragon still attached to her saddle, unresponsive to the blood rush this caused. She unfurled her wings at the last moment, blowing eddies of dust on the unsuspecting soldiers. The were about to yell, then caught themselves as they saw her teeth glisten in the dying light, massive and sharpened to a deathly point. They returned to their work with low murmurs of the disapproval. She landed a dozen or so feet ahead of Arya, turning to unfasten the binds that held Eragon with her teeth. Arya reached into her rucksack and pulled out a blanket. She jumped out of the saddle and landed nimbly on the ground. The men were still amazed at her grace, as she strode toward Eragon.

_I'll have him thank you when he awakens. _

The scarred soldier returned to her presence. She turned to face him. He was standing at attention, his knees locked and his right hand extended in a salute. He was definitely growing on her.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I have taken the liberty of creating your quarter's ma'am, please inspect them and inform if they are to your likings." She couldn't tell his rank so she asked him.

"What is your rank soldier, speak quickly!" she barked in her tone of authority. Saphira watched with amusement.

"I am a Cadet-Corporeal ma'am." He responded staring at her throat, never meeting her eyes.

"And what is your name Corporeal?" Arya asked using a quick and biting tone.

"Duluth Ma'am!" This Duluth was a good soldier; he kept the soldiers at work even though his rank gave him no power. Some even refused those of higher rank.

_Let's see how they like this._

"As of this moment on you shall be known as Sergeant-Major Duluth. I expect you to keep this company in top shape. I will have little or no time to whip them into shape, this I feel I can trust you with. Now go, have your ale." He turned with an about face and marched off, the smirk evident on his face even though his back was turned to her.

Eragon's wool shirt was matted with his blood, yet again. She reached into the pockets in the saddle on Saphira's back and withdrew a shirt. Saphira snorted.

_Are you sure that is a wise decision?_

Arya was astounded. _I can't leave him to wallow in his own blood. It is merely as a person helping another._

_But will he see it that way should he awaken? _It all overwhelmed Arya then. The fact that he might not wake up from this self induced coma, how it was her fault that he was frustrated. She threw the shirt aside and strode to her tent, the tears threatening to betray her.

Within the confines of his mind, Eragon plotted the next tactical maneuver the Varden should take in the war. The King now had another Rider in his army, one that was equal and better than he in every way. But if it boiled down to it, he knew Murtagh would not fight him. He counted heavily on this. Thorn was another matter entirely. Like Arya, he was faintly aware of his being manhandled into Saphira's saddle.

_Good, we have left for Farthen Dur. After the funeral, Saphira and I can leave for Ellesmera. _He felt another conscious touch his, an alien one. He began to throw up his barriers to protect himself, but lowered them. It was the figure who had brought Drasaern to him. They spoke on occasion of the sword and its history.

_I have a few questions to ask you, _Eragon said, then added sheepishly, _if you don't mind._

_I have no aversion to you or your questions just remember this: My patience is equal to that of humans, do not anger me. Now is the time for questions though the hour of action dawns upon all the races. _They both stood staring at one another, each contemplating the others next action. Eragon was first to speak.

_Though I am new to the knowledge of races, I am unsure what species you are. Please inform me. _His body armor gave Eragon no clue to the thoughts passing through him. It was a dozen or so moments before he spoke. His voice rasped out, giving Eragon chills.

_I am of the Kshara clan. Your people call us the grey folk._

Author's Note:

So here's chapter 4 and I have more to come. But that is if you should so choose to review. I am in dying need of a beta-reader. Please message me with a portfolio of your work. My email and IM address's are on my home page.

S


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Awaken In Darkness

Through the haze of thoughts that rushed at him, Eragon brought one crystal clear one to his throat.

_How is that possible? Your people have been gone for centuries, leaving Alagaesia for some other nation, beyond even Dragon. How is it that you are here? _He wanted to ask more so desperately but he bit down on the words, not wanting to anger the shadowed guest.

_Ah, we have come to the heart of your questioning. I am a grey being, and I have been chosen to grant you knowledge to a world that has thus been in disguise. The reigning king has brought cruelty and terror to people within his reach, using his power as a whip to keep them in place. But you my Rider, have a choice that will effect everyone. _Though he had heard this same speech from various people, coming from a grey-being, his statement held great sway, bring an almost unbearable weight to his shoulders. He fell to his knees, biting into his lower lip and drawing blood, his hands clenched tight, bringing forth a fresh wave of pain. The figure stood before him, arms crossed over his breast, his armor strangely gleaming in the darkness.

_Help me! _Eragon pleaded, wanting an escape from the abyss threatening to devour him. He felt his muscles clench and give way to the unretreating force accumulating over his back. He fell to the ground, wanting nothing more that to escape. The obliterator had returned.

_Agree to fight for all that is and will become. Bear the burden of the helpless, be the shining light in a world filled with darkness. Be the hand that helped a whole nation crumble an dictator.. Can you accept this burden or will you perish just as the rider's of legend?_

_I will, just help me please! This pa---agh! _He broke off as the weight limited his chances of speech, spit forming around his lips, making him look crazed and deranged.

The figure brought his left paralell to his chest, halting the weight over his body. He reached down and grabbed Eragon roughly by the front of his tunic. Looking straight into his eyes, he reached over and whispered into his ear, _A wise decision, but the path in which you have planted thine feet will be costly. Your life shall cease and your worth as a human is diminished. The very continuation of your life is in your ability to give me your undivided attention. You have been pampered in your time among the elves. No longer. You have no title and power, you are a noone until I say otherwise. The only thing in this land that you may rely on is the sword in your hands and the dragon with which you ride. _He released the grip he held on Eragon's shirt, throwing him aside as if he were a stray dog. He turned his back on him as if in disgust.

Within the privacy of her dwellings, Arya cried. Every emotion and feeling that she hid behind a pretense exposed itself in the form of a tear, escaping the corner of her eyes and falling onto her pillow. She threw aside every stony mask she had in place for Eragon and wept as if the world was ending and there was nothing she was able to do.

_Eragon and I shall never be. He is the future savior of all Alagaesia and I remain a common elf. He and Nasuada shall make a fine pair, _she through bitterly, remembering how he stared lovingly into her caramel eyes. She reached over lazily for her sword that sat waiting at the edge of her bed. Arya drew the blade with ease from decades of practice. The runes inscribed on the blade reflected from the moonlight into her eyes: Faolin. Her body made the deecision that it could no longer stand the suffocating presence of the camp without her knowledge. She was only aware that she was on her feet, racing through the entrance and into the crowded area of the bonfire. Her blade still in her steely grasp, the soldiers jumped up at the sight, assuming there was an attack. Arya did not care. She jumped through the flames, unharmed by their scorching temperature and conted running from the west encampment and into the desert.

Arya ran, her body pumping every muscle along the way. Seconds, mtes, hours, days, everything ceased as she galloped through the dessert. Each rise and fall of her feet bringing another wave of anger, rage, hate and only one person was to blame: Herself. She stopped, leaning over to rest her hands over her knees, her black hair splayed across her shoulders. She felt miserable by any standards. '_Pain is something everyone knows. The feeling is familiar and brings thoughts into clarity, Pain makes you want escape, even throwing your life at it. All for freedom,' _she recalled her first Master telling her as he smashed the flat of his sword across her face, throwing her to the ground. Just like that, the anecdote left her, dark thoughts churning in her ever thinking mind. That's when she had perhaps the greatest and worst epiphany ever. _Clarity is something I am in dire need of, _she thought as she brought the blade in her hands up into her eyesight. The blade grazed the skin over her left palm, leaving a fresh trail of blood. Clarity came but it wasn't enough. This time she dug deeper. The effects were immediate, her problems stopped battering her and ceased, just like that. She watched as the crimson line moved quite quickly across her palm, forming a pool with which she could spy the moon. She looked up and was in awe at the depth in which she saw the moon. No longer was it the light with which lovers kissed and poets wrote heart wrenching sonnets, but it was the ever watching victim. She stood up, letting the accumulated blood fall onto the dry sand.

"This is the real me," Arya said to the moon, it's white pearly light shining as if asscenting to her choice.

The flames danced through Orik's eyes as he sharpened his axe using a wetstone. The edge was near razor sharp when he spyed Arya entering through the shadows quickly entering her tent. He placed his weapon to the side of the log he had been sitting upon and raised himself. His slow movements did not catch the attention of the near soldiers who had, on Arya's order, unstoppered their wineskins and drank their fill. He moved quietly, the sand cushioning his steady steps as he made his way near. Within a dozen or so yards of her tent, Orik heard something, his highly sensitive ears picked up on movement behind Arya's tent. A shadow dashed aross his peripheral. _Just the shadows, _he thought, remembering he had had his fill of ale. Again a shadow danced across his peripheral vision, this time to the left. He quickened his pace, nearing the entrance to Arya's tent. Golden emblazons of what looked to be trees stretched across the whole of her quarters, yet again showing the expanse of the elves artwork. He felt as if he was being watched, the hair on his arms raised to their full extent.

"Elf, are you there?" he asked, his voice quivering from a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. He spyed left then right, trying to catch the eye of something or someone watching him.

"Why, yes Master Orik, I do happen to be here," she said throwing the entrance aside and appearing in the blink of an eye. Her soft, raven hair flew from her face to her shoulders where they rested. Her eyes sparked, casting a mirror reflection of the almost dispersed flames. She looked wild and feline in the shadows of her entrance. "Is there something that you would like to discuss?"

He leaned in closer to her, not wanting stray ears catching their words. "Do you mind if we?"he asked, gesturing as if to enter her tent. "The matters are quite serious." His tone gave away his impatience and something else Arya could not quite detect. That was enough. Arya moved aside, allowing the stout man entrance to her domain. The room was shrouded in shadows, throwing mystery as to her belongings. A bed was covered in crimson linens, what looked to be velvet covered every inch of the room. Orik took the stool at the foot of her bed, wanting nothing more than to delve into the topic.

"We dwarves tend to keep to ourselves, something we picked up after The War of The Dragons. And I do not make it a habit to delve into people's lives but this matter should be brought to light. I noticed you enter the camp and I was on my way to ask you but there was something... There is something amongst us that shouldn't be. Every bone in my body tell's me something is wrong."

Arya's breath caught in her throat, tightening her lungs and torso. _An attack._

"Eragon must be protected!" She and Orik both jumped up and dashed through the entrance. Saphira's mighty, earth shaking roar sounded through the camp. Arya ran faster than even the wind, soldiers jumped to the side for fear of her as she plunged headlong to the enraged dragon. Arya dashed into the clearing that held the dragon and her rider. The night sky burst into light, flames danced through the wind and Saphira roared, louder than any dragon before her. Soldier's put their hand's to their ears in hopes of deadening the mighty roar but it was all in vain. Eragon lay on the blanket Arya placed him on earlier, completely unaware of the attack. Her sensitive ears caught the sound of a blade whirring through the air and brought her blade up instinctively. There was no attack against her but it is better to be safe than sorry. Orik appeared at her side, his chest rumbling, trying to gather enough oxygen for his miniscule lungs.

"There," Orik said, pointing with his index finger to the left of Saphira where a shadow drew close to Eragon. Before Arya could bring the magic words that would kill the foe to her lips, Saphira arched her massive neck and loosed fireballs towards the figure. It jumped nimbly aside, unrestrained by his flowing black robes. He lunged forward, towards Eragon! Orik reached into his belt and fingered three throwing knives. Each flew from his hands with a force unparralelled. The first caught the figure in his mid-section, the second in what appeared to be his lower thigh, and the third and last entered the neck. He was undetered by the blows. Arya ran forward, trying to protect Eragon but was halted as Saphira snaked her long neck around and bit at her. Dodging with only an inch to spare, Arya could not help but notice that Saphira's usual sapphire eyes were now as cold and black as Shruikan's scales. Her attention diverted, the figure ran and threw Eragon over his shoulder. Orik brought another knife fom his belt and threw it but the figure was already gone. He had vanished with Eragon, the Varden's soul chance of victory. Rain poured from the dark night, dropping all chances of victory. Orik fell to his knees and raised his cleanched fist's towards the darkened sky.

"How? How can you take away my father and now my bretheren? How many more shall perish before the end is near?" he roared. Noone stopped him. Saphira remained angry, throwing her head back and screeching but there was little that could be done.

_Only Eragon will make her feel whole and there was little that could be done, _Arya thought, feeling worse than ever. She turned her back on the empty battlefield and strode to her tent. She pulled her blade once more from it's scabbard and laid waste to her wrist.

_What have you done, _Eragon screamed to the back of the dark figure. _You have taken my body and attacked my friends. How da-._He was cut off as a dagger struck his mind, paralyzing him.

_Do not speak, Boy! _The last word was filled with such antagonism that Eragon's eye's closed in fear. His body cowered from the weight but moreso from the hate filled glare he threw him.

_We the grey-folk do not wish to have our presence known Should we be discovered, your shallow king would destrroy the entire country looking for us. I will not condemn my race to the horrors that man has caused. For now, we hide and train, biding our time and growing stronger for the final battle._ The dagger's around Eragon's consciousness stopped and he moved to a comfortable sitting position. _But you, we need to harvest you and your power. You shall be the instrument with which we will destroy the king. I will be your instructor in the arts of war, magic, and blade. You shall never again lose to your brother. _Eragon was surprised to hear that he knew of Murtagh. Only the people on the battlefield knew of his loss. _Your task's will be harder than anything the elves could conjure, but the power you shall recieve will be worth the pain and struggle to come._

_Awaken from your comatose. Let us begin your training._

A/N

Training from the grey-folk, kidnapping and a healthy dose of emo-ness all mixed in. What a beautiful chapter! Please Review. I think this is a good story yet people fail to review. There are so many hits on the story and only a handful of reviews.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The Lights Shine

Eragon's glazed eyes open to darkness. _So it is nighttime..._ he thought. Each and every muscle twitched, spasmed, then failed causing him to fall onto his back. Eragon lay in his body for the first time in what seemed to him like eternity. His power was slow to return and he remained a shadow of his former agile self. His muscles were not too far shot for him to miss the cloaked figure dousing the remains of a fire. He raised his shadowed eyes to Eragon's. Arctic azure eyes flared in the darkness. Though he was shrouded in cloth, icy daggers struck Eragon's heart, causing it to thump erratically. His pulse quickened, his limbs, though strained, convulsed. His mind drew a blank as he fell into a recooperative slumber. Mud and dirt caked his shirt. The night breeze ruffled his auburn hair, wiping away the sweat that formed over his comatose body. The onlooker gazed coldy at the Rider's body.

_How weak you people are..._he thought.

Four lines were strewn across Arya's wrist before she fell asleep. The blood ran quickly down her arms, forming intricate design trails. She sheathed her blade and lay across her cot, waiting for a reprieve from her emotions; a reprieve she knew would not come. She threw her unscarred hand over her face wanting to block out the shadows dancing across her tent, reflected from the fire the soldiers stood watch with. The folds of her blankets welcomed Arya as she fell into the realms between slumber and meditation, a place known only to elves. Before her eye's closed for the last time, a nervous gruff asked for entrance. She was torn between the need to help these men and the want for Eragon's embrace. His warm flesh melding with hers, his rough hands caressing her face and causing flame to burn through her mask and show her true emotions, emotions she hid behind twists of words and angry glances. The pitch was just low enough for her to tell it was Orik.

_He sure is chatty, _Arya thought sarcastically, throwing aside her blankets and striding to the entrance, fully dressed and prepared for the worst of news. Something she had been familiar with in the last decade or so.

"What is it Master Orik?" she asked angered slightly by his need to disturb her. His small arms threw aside the entrance and he strode in to stare at her. A sight to be seen. A nearly four foot high dwarf glaring down upon an obvious authority, superior in blade and height.

"How can you sit here while our one chance of peace has been stolen? I cannot and shall not sit in waiting, he is my brother and I will go for him. Saphira has calmed enough to allow us passage in her saddle. I am leaving immediatly. What right do you have to sit here when it is plainer than Hrothgar's temper that you feel something for him?" A gentler tone entered his voice as he added, "You have not smiled since Faol-"

"Do not speak of Faolin to me!" Arya roared angrily, a first time for Orik. His eyes widened with surprise met her shout. "Leave. I will honor Hrothgar at his funeral, a funeral you will miss in search of a mere boy. Would you disgrace his honor and ignore tradition in vain hopes?"

"Seeing as you know the kind of man Hrothgar was," Orik shouted back, no longer restraining the quiet fury that compelled him towards her tent, "then you would know he would not rest until a brother was found! He would search for decades and never lose hope. It is in his honor, nay, his memory and grace that I hunt for Eragon's captor. That is something you elves," he spat the last word out as if it were physically making him ill, "would never understand. 'Long in face and High in Nose.' Suits you." He sneered towards Arya then left as swiftly as his stocky legs would allow him, leaving her with his final words.

_He's right. Eragon could be dead or worse and here I sit to savor my own misery. _She reached out with her consciousness, trying to contact Saphira. _Can you hear me?_

_Can I assume that you wish to join us? _Saphira asked within the confines of Arya's mind.

_Aye. I was foolish to argue with Orik. He cares for Eragon and I and that is something that is precious to me. We have been friend for nearly a half-century. _

_You have made a wise choice, but Orik is angry and it will take time...and patience. Though the time Eragon and Orik have known each other has been short, they have constrtructed a long standing friendship. _

_But I can't open my heart again. Eragon genuinely loves me but his feelings are something I cannot reciprocate. Faolin was my one and only. He and I were something special. Nothing can mirror the depth with which we loved one another. As can nothing fill the part of my heart that died when he did.. _

_Time can heal all wounds little one. Wait and see. But do not tarry on this thought, we leave at first light. I do not have to tell you to bring only the essentials. _Before Saphira could sever the connection Arya asked,

_Do we have a heading? Alagaesia is a vast plain and finding a mere boy is suicide._

_Aye we do. Our flight will be North-West, back towards-_Saphira didn't have to finish the sentence Arya already knew.

_Towards the Spine. _Arya said before severing the connection.

Dawn shined through the trees splaying Eragon with sunlight. His eyelids felt heavy even after the hours of sleep. The fire was out now but the figure was still seated in the shadows, glaring at the groggy Eragon.

"So you have awakened," the figure hissed. His voice was somewhat like a dagger; sharp and deadly.

"How long have I been out?" Eragon asked rising from his make shift cot. He rotated his shoulders, noting how they felt smooth. In fact, ever muscle in his body felt good. As if he had been healed from every ache he had been cursed with.

"Nearly a day now. But there is no time to waste, we must start your training with haste. You are an adept in the ancient language as you picked it up in no time. I hope you are as skillful with the Tongue of Star's, the language the grey-folk brought here when all of Alagaesia was uninhabited. It belies the inner essence of beings and forms. When you have finished learning you will have obtained an immeasureable power source.

"I am your's to teach," Eragon ascented, bending his knees and lowering his head to the ground as to humble himself before his master.

"When we have completed your training we will then head for Drasaern. Only should I say you are ready will you wield the blade."

"Yes master," Eragon said, leaning back and looking into the face of his new trainer. He didn't feel the icy daggers attack him but that didn't make him smug. He knew at any moment he could be killed and gone forever, leaving all he loves behind.

"All that you have seen, known, heard of, or touched was created by a source of energy compelled by the stars. It is to them that we owe everything you have. When the earth was young, they brought a power unto it that transformed. It grew and grew, weaving a magical web to everything that is. It gives the beings energy through this web that is attached. When the web attached to anything is severed, it will die instantaneously from a lack of life. When you mortals kill one another, it is the web that is severed and thus, the life force." He moved from the pine tree he had been sitting beneath to come face to face with Eragon.

"That is the most basic understanding of our history. You will delve into a more in depth study of the language. I have books and scrolls from which you will have access. You will study and train in blade with me, whether you are sick or have broken limbs. Nothing will stop us." His tone was fierce but inlaid was a promise that elated Eragon. His stomach grumbled, begging for nourishment of any kind.

_When was it I had eaten last? _Eragon thought. The figure went to the picketed horse Eragon just spotted and pulled forth two apples, both of which he tossed to Eragon. He bit down hard into the first, feeling the succulent juices flow down his parched throat. The first was diminished within moments. Eragon drew his hand blade and cut the apple into shares, offering a portion to his mentor.

He shied the offering away with his hands, saying, "I do not require sustenance." This surprised Eragon enough to stop him in mid bite. He looked away from the apple and to the figure with new found curiosity.

"How is that? Without the basic energy that is supplied from these fruits, you would wither and grow weak."

"Ah," he the figure said seemingly surprised, "that is basic knowledge for most living creatures, but we grey-folk are the first beings to have spawned from the web of life. We are closely related and recieve our nourishment from the web and nothing else. It is much better than your food. We will never starve and therefore have less battles over droughts and famines.

Eragon's eyes widened, staring at the figure in disbelief. Then he remembered something that needed to be asked. "Master, what is your name? What is the title with which I shall call you?"

"From hence forth you shall call me Master, for that is what I am. I teach, bestow knowledge and am your superior. That is my title." He pulled a pipe frrom his robes and proceeded to smoke.

"Well Master, what shall we do today? I must begin training." Eragon wanted badly to begin his training. There was little time to spare and the longer he waited the more people are harmed and killed by Galbatorix and his menions.

"Quite eager aren't you? You shall read from the scrolls I have brought. Study them and know every word, every line, and every sentence." He stood up, his flowing black robe touching the ground as he strode over to his horse again. The black stallion didn't even notice him, he just continued to eat the grass near his picketed area. Master drew out four rolls of thick parchment and threw them to Eragon. "You will read those as we head off. I shall ride and you will walk," he said with the barest hint's of a smile forming around his covered face.

The scrolls were lined with dust and worn thin from years of being handled, but they were thick nonetheless. He grabbed the metalic side of the first scroll, easily the smallest of the group, and opened it to begin his studies. The stars were shining brilliantly in the night sky when Eragon put the scroll down. He had done little that day and yet he felt drained by his newfound knowledge. He laid down, his back hurting from leaning awkwardly against a pine tree. He grabbed his blanket from his russack and fell asleep.

It was nearly midday when Master awakened Eragon from his makeshift cot. The buds of spring surrounded their encampment. Sunlight streamed through the trees, baking Eragon's skin and making him seemingly glow. He inhaled a breath, savoring the scent of pine trees and other spring scents.

_How long before the king takes over this place? _Eragon asked himself as he stood to stretch, a frown playing at his lips. Far off, the sound of a flowing river caught his attention. _A shower would be nice, _he noted taking a wiff of himself. His nose scrunched up in disgust. He turned to his master, still puffing on his pipe.

"I am going for a shower, I shouldn't be gone long." He threw off his shirt, taking each of his boots of and heading through the scrub, following his ears and nose towards his bath. Though the distance he traveled was nary half a league, he accumulated a score of bruises from trees and branches. Eragon bent over and placed a hand in the water.

"Ahhh," he said with satisfaction. The water was warn for the spring. He stripped off his britches and dived into the water. He swan down for dozens of feet, feeling his ears ringing from the building pressure. He scrubbed his hair and face underneath the water. His feet touched the bottom of the lake. His lungs were dying for more oxygen, constricting and wanting. He pressed down and jumped up with all his force. He broke the surface with a gasp, taking in as much oxygen as he could. He waded into shallow water to stand comfortably. He reached over to examine his wounds. There were dozens covering his arms and face. Dried blood was smearing, moisture turning it into running wounds.

_"Waisse Heal!" _he chanted.The flesh melded together, closing the wound and destroying the scar, no remnants of the cuts remained. He pushed his auburn hair back, the water making it flimsy and wild. He laid his head on the shore, the rest of his body being gently rocked by the flowing river. He sat there savoring the warm spring weather for sometime. All was quiet and he was enjoying the stillness. Then it hit him.

_It is spring and yet there are no birds chirping, squirrels gathering food or smaller animals scavenging for food. _He jumped from the river, appearing on the shore in the blink of an eye. He dressed quicky, not bothering to dry off. He ran faster than the even before. He ran through the bushes and around trees, cuts forming yet again. He ran into the encampment, and found nothing amiss. Master was sitting by the fire, seeming in meditation, his steed picketed by an area of goose grass. Nothing wrong. Or so he thought.

"So you felt something too," Master said without opening his eyes or moving a muscle. "Someone is watching us." Eragon ran to his cot, searching through the various items he kept with him. He found his hand knife, though it wouldn't help in a fight, it is better than being unarmed.

"Sit down," he said with ease. "Sit and watch what I shall show." Eragon sat down in his lotus position, reaching forth with his consciousness. He wanted to try something he learned from the scrolls he read ceaselessly but Master was doing something, better to not disturb him.

He reached out, feeling everything within a half-league. Then he came to a being. Not a singular being but a dozen or so. He broke thrugh their thoughts and began to pick apart their memories. _Spies! _He thought angrily. _How did they know we are here? _He picked through more of their thoughts, completely disregarding what Brom had warned him off all those months ago. _...Don't see why we have to search through this accursed terrain, _one angry soldier was thinking. _What could be worth finding in here? _Then another presence came into Eragon's scope. _A Shade! _He jumped up from his meditation.

"Master, may I borrow your blade?" Eragon asked quickly. He had a building rage for Shade's since Durza. Master had a sheathed blade in his hand before Eragon could see him move.

"Take it. It is your's to keep. Consider it a gift from me to you." He threw the sheathed blade at Eragon with a force that broke through the wind. It flew right by his face and stuck into a tree. Eragon jumpedd to t, tugging hard at the hilt, putting his feet on both sides of the bladee to gain leverage. It came loose with a silent whir. Eragon ran as if on wings through the trees. North-east, he recalled their directions. Hate and Rage compelled him faster, urging him on. _Durza summoned the raz'ac and they killed Brom!_ He felt he was nearing and slowed to a walk. He ducked down, peering through the foliage into the soldiers encampment. There was a smokeless fire burning a cauldron, stew scents filling his nostrils. A half dozen tents had been erected and covered with foliage to offer camoflauge. The soldiers were sitting around as if waiting for some orders. He drew the blade silently, wanting nothing more than to be prepared. He sat waiting for the shade to come out for some time. The day went by swiftly and night was setting before he saw him.

He came from his tent, his maroone eye's glowing. Eragon's palm was itching, sensing danger. The Shade came to stand by the soldiers, his red cloak sweeping the ground. Two soldiers turned to him and sneered. The shade caught the gesture.

"Do you have something against me Mortal?" he shouted, grabbing the soldier by his face, holding him over the ground.

"No, No Sir. I was just wondering when we will be active," he recovered, fear apparent in every bit of his tone.

"Better. I could kill you all and the king wouldn't bat an eyelash for you driveling dogs." He roared, still holding the soldier and glaring at the on lookers. "Your life is is my hands and should I choose, I could do this to any of you." He tightened his grip over the mans face. The Shade's victim screamed out for help.

That was more than an invitation for Eragon. He jumped from the bushes, slashing at the unsuspecting Shade. He side stepped the attack and threw the still living soldier to the side. He hit the floor with a thump and ceased breathing. Eragon roared and charged the shade. The soldiers stepped away from the fight, choosing to live another day. The shaded parried the blow effortlessly. "You humans are so weak, I'm surprised Durza allowed himself to be slain by you," he chuckled. That offset Eragon's anger. He jumped back a safe distance and uttered a single word:

"_Malthinae_." His enemy became immobile and unable to utter a counter-spell. Eragon began a painful excavation of his thoughts and memories. He placed his hands on the Shade's temples to better the connection. The shade placed another barrier around his thoughts in a vain attempt to slow Eragon's drill.

"Trying to resist , eh?" Eragon was pleased. It would have been to easy for him to kill the shade without somewhat of a fight. He pushed his mental dagger farther into his wall. The shade's mouth opened in a silent scream of pain.

The wall crumbled beneath Eragon's will. He pushed into his memories trying to figure out what they were looking for. A part of his memory still remained shadowed and protected. Eragon dug deeper. Each tendril of thought expanding in the shade's mind. He found it, the reason a shade and a group of soldiers were in the cursed Spine. They were searching for the last Dragon Egg!

Author's Note

That wasn't too long to wait for all this action. I no longer am in need of a beta-reader, I have a wonderful one with which I bounce Ideas. You can thank me and I'll pass it on though. I hope you can find it to review. Seeing such a low income of reviews is saddening. So please Read and Review. The Top Reviewer will recieve a little prize, so hurry to the review button!


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